


Roots: Enter The Mage

by ValAishlym



Series: Bloom [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:58:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValAishlym/pseuds/ValAishlym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Maybe I will take you up on the offer….When the temptation of throwing myself over the railing while in your company abates,”</p><p>Dorian reflects back on his relationship with the Inquisitor. What was said and not said; what was done and not done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Here & Now

**Char: Dorian & Val'Aishlym**

**Summary: Dorian reflects back on his relationship with the inquisitor.**

**Roots: Enter The Mage**

**The Here & Now**

He sat in a chair flipping through a book. The book itself wasn’t anything too interesting. Glancing up at the shelves around him, he let a sigh pass through his lips. He had undoubtedly read every single book in the library.

He had no clear inkling as to why he was even still here – Corypheus was dead, he had no reason to still be hanging around Skyhold.

He wasn’t _with_ the Inquisitor anymore. He actually hadn’t been with him for quite some time. When he’d first laid eyes on him, his interest was piqued. Mind you, he had seen his fair share of elves in his homeland – there were many of them.

He had never actually been so close to a _Dalish_ elf. He’d read about them, for sure, but he had a feeling his readings were hardly accurate. It _was_ written by someone who was _not_ Dalish after all – by someone who only observed and recorded their take on their observations… Even then the authors probably hadn’t seen one a day in their lives.

Val’Aishlym didn’t act anything like how the books said he would.

Dorian admits it, at first he had only approached the elf because he was curious about his heritage and his background. After he got to know the elf a little more, the interest in his heritage changed – he was then just interested in the elf himself.

The elf was attractive, something Dorian suspected he didn’t really even realize about himself, something he probably would not ever realize. Whenever he would comment on his looks, the elf would just stare blankly at him or frown. A few times he had even seen a light dust of pink across his nose. Other than that, the elf was completely unreceptive.

Dorian chuckled to himself. He remembered a couple of times where his infatuation with the elf almost ended with him pierced by an arrow or stabbed by a dagger.

Dorian didn’t just mindlessly pursue the elf, of course. He had more tact than that. He had observed the smaller things about the elf: What interested him, what didn’t interest him, what annoyed him – besides Dorian at times, and just how _innocent_ he was, for lack of a better word. The elf had been sheltered _without being sheltered._ He had been free roaming around with his clan but he had knew little else _outside_ that clan.

Dorian admits it, he had been arrogant. He’d been too confident that if he showed how much he actually knew, it’d likely pique the elf’s interest and get him to like him a bit more than he had. His knowledge wasn’t actually what interested the elf, but at least he had gotten his attention.

The elf was more interested in his magic – that is his storm magic specifically. He hadn’t said it out loud, but he could tell the elf disliked anything to do with fire.

He remembered a few times when they camped, he’d catch the elf glaring at the fire. He never approached him about it. Even after they had gotten together. He figured it was a sore subject that would likely bring the elf’s wrath upon him.

Val'Aishlym might have been smaller than him, but he packed a powerful punch. Dorian reached a hand up to his jaw. It was something he had experienced first-hand….


	2. The There & Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...He idly wonders if it was love at first sight...

**Char: Dorian & Val'Aishlym**

**Summary: Dorian reflects back on his relationship with the inquisitor.**

**Roots: Enter The Mage**

**The There & Then**

_Then,_

Dorian watched the pale elf nock back an arrow with a wince then hold the position. What exactly he was aiming at, the mage did not know.

The longer he observed, the less he believed he was actually aiming at anything. The elf would nock an arrow back, hold that position, relax his position, then rinse and repeat. Dorian, with his arms cross his chest and hand fondling his chin, turned his gaze to the right to see that Solas was also observing the elf's behavior. But instead of looking as confused as Dorian was feeling, he just looked curious.

Dorian dropped his hands to his side and approached the other mage. “What in the Maker's name is he doing? Is it some type of elven training? An arm thing?” Dorian asked. Solas cut his eyes to the other mage with a raised brow.

“It is an archer thing, not an elven thing,” Solas answered. “I suspect the mark on his hand is painful. He is trying to work through that pain to better grip his bow.” Solas crossed his arms. “After the initial shock wore off, I'm guessing so did the adrenaline that came with it. His marksmanship had steadily been growing worse as time passed.”

“Odd, I did not really see much of a change,” Dorian mumbled.

“One cannot judge change if one has not seen the beginning. You have seen the now, but you have not seen the _then,_ ” Solas responded. “Watch yourself,” Solas suddenly commanded, a light veil of blue light surrounding them.

Dorian had already spotted the stray arrow coming towards them before Solas had even said anything. Before the arrow could strike the barrier, it was reduced to ashes in a puff of smoke.

The elven Herald who had – who Dorian _hoped_ had mistakenly let the arrow go, was giving him a look. He looked….disgusted?

“I get the feeling he’s not too happy the arrow did not find its mark…” Dorian mumbled to Solas.

“I am not sure what has upset him,” Solas said with a shrug. “Maybe he heard us speaking of him?”

“Elf ears are that good? We’re not exactly within earshot of him – are we?” Dorian looked at Solas but the man had already began to walk away. “Interesting,” Dorian hummed, returning his gaze to the Herald. The elf had turned away and resumed his previous _‘practice’._

After a while of observing the elf, Dorian decided to make his way over to him. “What a marvelous stance you have,” Dorian commented as the elf nocked back another arrow. The elf cut his eyes to Dorian with a frown.

“What do you have to compare to? I thought you were a mage,” the elf grunted as he relaxed his position. He brought his hand up that held the mark, causing it to glow brightly. Dorian crossed his arms.

“Well, there’s that dwarf – what’s his name….Varric.” Dorian smirked. “And also every other archer within these walls…and there is also the many hundreds of archers we’ve already come in contact with and possibly will always come in contact with.”

“Isn’t he the one that uses a crossbow?” Val’Aishlym asked. “You do realize a bow and a crossbow are different,”

“Ah, yes, yes….the size of the arrow, the size of the _bow_ ,” Dorian moved his hand around in a circular motion. “Not so very different but different. And the archers within and outside these walls?”

“If you are that bored, why do you not go bother someone else.” Val’Aishlym nocked an arrow again. Dorian raised an eyebrow.

“I apologize. I did not realize I was being a bother. I was genuinely _fascinated_ by your stance.”

“Go find something else to fascinate you.” The elf gave Dorian a dirty look.

“That’s a little unfair. You are by far the most _interesting_ person I’ve come in contact with since I got here. I would never settle for anything less.” Dorian grinned. Val’Aishlym dropped the bow and the arrow. Dorian raised an eyebrow as the elf turned completely to face him, pulling the quiver off his back. Dorian hadn’t noticed this earlier, but the elf was quite….pretty, for lack of a better word. Pale face, wide crimson eyes, high cheek bones, delicate nose, and smallish mouth – the light green tattoos under his eyes did well to bring out…well his eyes.

“That’s odd, you are the most annoying person I’ve come in contact with since I got here – and I’ve had the displeasure of dealing with Cassandra for days. I _would_ settle for less.” Val’Aishlym huffed before walking away, cussing under his breath. Dorian wished he understood elvhen, he was sure what was coming from the small elf would be highly amusing. Instead, he just smirked as he watched the grumbling elf walk away.

 


	3. The Here & There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things look like they may just turn in his favor...but how long would that last?

**Char: Dorian & Val'Aishlym**

**Summary: Dorian reflects back on his relationship with the inquisitor.**

**Roots: Enter The Mage**

**The Here & There**

Dorian promised he wasn’t stalking the elf. He just so happened upon him in the library...and everywhere else the elf ended up. Dorian himself was always in the library. He hadn’t seen the elf in the area whenever he was there.

The elf was staring intently at a book with a furrow in his brow. “My, my, stare at the book any harder and it just may combust,” Dorian said, crossing his arms. The elf’s gaze snapped up to him before he returned it back to the book. Dorian leaned his head to the side to get a look at the title of the book.

It was some book on the elvhen language. He doubted the authenticity of the book – like he did most of the books in the library that was _educational_ in manner. “And here I thought you were fluent in your own language.”

“Do you make it your mission to annoy me to the point I want to kill you?” He asked.

Dorian smirked. That was probably the first time in weeks the elf had given him a verbal response. He’d either just blankly stare at him or grunt an unintelligible answer. He saw him talking with Solas a few times – maybe he’d question Solas about that later on. “I apologize. I hadn’t realized I was such a bother to you.”

“Oh – but you d.” The silver haired elf lowered the book slightly to peer over it. “You enjoy it, as well.” He snapped the book closed. “If you must know, I was only trying to expand on your shemlen language.” He tossed the book carelessly to the side. “They expect me to write things for them or read things over. I have never had to write things –especially in this language.” He stood up and Dorian watched him stretch.

“I expected them to do all the writing. It is quite odd they’d believe you to be so fluent in a language you barely can speak.”

“Thank you for the confidence boost,” he responded dryly. “I did not realize I was so _horrible_ with the language that you could barely understand me.”

“That wasn’t exactly what I meant, but…yes of course.” Dorian chuckled. “If you’d like, I could…help you a little with that.”

“I’d drown myself first,” Val'Aishlym deadpanned. Dorian chuckled again.

“Come now, my company can’t be _that_ bad.”

“You’re not terrible, but…” Val'Aishlym was giving him a dirty look again. “In small doses…”

“How does one pronounce your name?” Dorian suddenly asked. The elf raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Well, you didn’t care for when I called you Herald. If I call you inquisitor you ignore me.”

“You sound juvenile.” The elf pointed. “Maybe I ignore you because I do not want to be bothered with you.”

“Nonsense! If you didn’t want to be bothered with me, you would not have allowed me to join the inquisition.”

“If you remember correctly,” he said with a frown. “I did not actually say you could or couldn’t.” He pointed again. “You just tagged along. I didn’t tell you to leave because you’re a useful mage.”

“ _’Useful´_ he says,” Dorian chuckled, causing the elf to frown. “I suppose you’re right…”

“It is Val’Aishlym,” he said slowly with some hesitation. “Maybe I will take you up on the offer….When the temptation of throwing myself over the railing while in your company abates.”

“Oh my,” Dorian chuckled as he watched the elf walk away.


	4. The Now & Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever cautious, he seeks more information.

**Char: Dorian & Val'Aishlym**

**Summary: Dorian reflects back on his relationship with the inquisitor.**

**Roots: Enter The Mage**

**The Now & Then**

“Just a bit more of a curve here and it’ll be perfect.” Dorian was leaning over the elf’s shoulder, pointing out one of the letters the smaller had written. “Marvelous, you’re a fast learner. It has only been two weeks and your writing is already better than that _dreadful_ mess Varric calls narratives.”

“You should give him more credit – I actually like some of the tales he writes…” Val’Aishlym looked over his shoulder at Dorian with a raised eyebrow.

“That…I am not sure if you are insulting him or complimenting him.” Dorian smirked. Val’Aishlym glared at him briefly before looking back at the paper in front of him. He dipped the plume in ink. “Do you only lack knowledge of writing in…ah what did you call it? _Shemlen_ language?”

“Yes.” Val’Aishlym mumbled. “Our teachings in the clan are mostly done orally. If we do write something, most of the time it is in the elvhen language.”

“Ah! Is that why you can speak our language but can’t read or write, then?”

“Yes.” Val’Aishlym glanced at Dorian from the corner of his eye. “I suppose the next question you ask is going to be about Solas.” Both Dorian’s brows rose.

“How very perceptive of you,”

“How very _transparent_ of you,” he drawled dryly. “Solas – He is older than me.”

“That much I gathered.” Dorian stood up straight before sitting down next to the elf.

“He holds knowledge that my own Keeper would not have….He travels the Fade – In such a way I’ve never really heard about.”

“And that interests you?”

“Yes. I am sure it interests you as well.” Val’Aishlym sat the plume down to look at Dorian. “He is a teacher of sorts.”

“I understand.” Dorian nodded. “I’ve just never seen someone who was _not_ a mage take such interests in the Fade or magic in general – do you study it? Is it a part of the elven culture?”

“Why does my interests translate to elven culture?” Val’Aishlym frowned. “I have an interest in magic because I have an interest in magic. I do believe many people have interests in the things they cannot fully understand. It is not an elven thing, a Qunari thing, a dwarf thing, nor is it a human thing….it is an…instinctual thing. No matter the race, I’m sure you’d find someone just like me.” He crossed his arms.

“Ah, yes, yes. I know, I know…. Everyone has their reasons, of course. It’s not as black and white as I paint it, I understand that. I just want to know the why.”

“My reason?” Val’Aishlym asked.

“Yes. Your reason.”

“Your interest is misplaced.” Val’Aishlym frowned before standing. Dorian watched him walk away with a raised eyebrow.

“Such sensitivity.”

…

..

.

“Solas.” Solas looked up from the table to regard Dorian. He was in his usual place, in the rotunda under the library. “I’ve come to ask you on your take on the Inquisitor.”

“What do you mean?” Solas asked, crossing his arms.

“He is….an odd one. I do not get him," Dorian said. He crossed his arms as well. “Everyone in this place has their own demons but his is quite unusual. The only thing it seemingly affects is his sociability.”

“You must take into consideration he has probably not even conversed much with his own clan,” Solas said. “He holds a great….wisdom about him. And a sadness I feel all too familiar with…” Solas looked away for a moment before he returned his gaze to Dorian. “Tread carefully.”

“My – I didn’t think you cared…but is this to benefit me or him?”

“Both.” Solas’s eyes narrowed. “Cole cannot even read him, what do you take from that?”

“He can’t?” Dorian’s eyes widened slightly. “I was just under the impression he had spoken with the spirit to stop.”

“No…So won’t you do us all a favor.” Solas uncrossed his arms and leaned against the table. “Do not do anything that will upset him to the point he either kills everyone or does something ridiculous that makes it impossible for us to defeat Corypheus.”

“I’ll try,” Dorian mumbled.

“I know I cannot keep you from pursuing him, that much is obvious.” Solas’s eyes narrowed slightly. “But I won’t hesitate to interfere.” He left it at that.

…

..

.

Dorian walked up the stairs of the tavern, where he knew he could find the spirit standing and staring into space. “You are curious,” Cole said before he even opened his mouth. “You want to know more about him, yet the warning Solas has given you makes you hesitate. You wish to quench the thirst for more information, but find it difficult on how to proceed. Should you walk straight through the desert without water or shouldn’t you?” Cole looked at Dorian. “He is blank. He feels such strong and mixed emotions that are muddled up in such a way that….it is blank. He wants for everything but wants for nothing. He needs everything but he needs nothing. He is confused yet he is not. He knows everything yet he knows nothing.”

“So….in short, he’s just a large walking contradiction?” Dorian mumbled.

“He is hurt but he is not hurt. He needs help – wants help, but he does not need nor want it.” Cole looked down. “It…..hurts me…” Cole looked back up at Dorian. “It hurts to feel what he is not feeling. I try not to.”

“I see…” Dorian mumbled.

“Maybe…you can help? I cannot.” Cole looked back down and said nothing farther.

“Is there anything else?” Dorian asked.

“They are pink. They are….interesting creatures. I….when they are near, he feels. He is clear and feeling and not hurt but hurt. Nugs.”

“Interesting….” Dorian mumbled as he turned to leave the Tavern.


	5. Da'Nug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One taste....was all it took.

**Char: Dorian & Val'Aishlym**

**Summary: Dorian reflects back on his relationship with the inquisitor.**

**Roots: Enter The Mage**

**Da’Nug**

Dorian sighed, staring down at the stuffed object in his hand. He still wonders why he was even pursuing the elf.

At first it was just mere fascination with the unknown territory of a Dalish elf….now he wasn’t sure what this was. He stood outside the Inquisitor’s quarters with a – what _looked like_ a pink stuffed pillow. He opened the door and made his way up the few steps and rounded the railing.

The elf was on the floor fiddling with a curved pole and string. What he was doing, the mage wasn’t so sure. Without looking at him, the elf spoke:

“Why do you all barge in here without knocking. I could be naked. We know how _blinding_ that could be,” the elf mumbled.

“As appealing as the thought of walking in on you unclothed is," Dorian said with a chuckle, causing the elf to slowly turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “I came in here bearing a gift.”

“A….gift? For why?” The elf sat down his tools and stood.

“I told you I would find some sort of way to repay your kindness when you got my amulet back, did I not?” Dorian’s heart skipped a beat when a small smile played on the elf’s lips.

“I told you that you needn’t worry about repayment.”

“Well, regardless of that, I still got you a little something.” Dorian held up the pink pillow – which revealed itself to be a stuffed plush of a nug. The elf’s eyes widened slightly. He said nothing as he stared at it.

“Is it dead?” He asked urgently. He reached a hand out before pulling it back as if burnt. “It is not moving!” Dorian was confused for a moment. Then it dawned on him that the elf had most likely never seen something crafted so realistically before. That is, other than stone of course but those were large compared to the small, nearly life sized plush he held in his hand.

“It is not alive nor is it dead.” Dorian chuckled. He walked closer to the elf, who continued to eye the plush curiously. “It is not real.” He placed the plush in the elf’s hands. The elf’s eyes widened in wonder.

“It’s soft.” He mumbled. “It looks real…Is this some sort of magic?”

“Not in the slightest. I had it made by a seamstress acquainted with Vivienne. Vivienne told me the woman was rather talented and she was proven true.”

“You are giving me this?” The elf looked up at Dorian with a small frown.

“Now, now…don’t start to frown.” Dorian ran a hand across Val’Aishlym’s brow. The elf’s face held an expression Dorian had never seen on him. He looked lost. “Come now, bring back the little smile. I must say, I find you more attractive when you’re not scowling or secretly plotting death with your eyes.” Val’Aishlym smirked but there was a slight pink tint to his cheeks. He looked down to stare at the nug. He began to pet the head with an unreadable expression.

“How did you even know I like Nugs?” he mumbled.

“Well, whenever we would come across them, I caught you staring at them. I noticed how you would become more upset when a nug died accidentally then if any other animal mistakenly died in the cross fire. It was somewhat similar from when the Halla died when we were in the Exalted Plains.”

“Why a fake one?” Val’Aishlym looked up at him.

“Taking care of a real nug would have been difficult, I assumed. Between the travels in the fields and…I am not an expert of creature behavior, but I am sure a real nug would be uncomfortable in Skyhold. I didn’t believe you’d like to witness such discomfort.”

“….” The elf continued to stare up at Dorian for a while. “How…thoughtful.” He finally said. The smile was back and Dorian wished he had the means to immortalize the moment forever. Dorian reached a hand up and placed it gently on the elf’s cheek. The rounded flesh became a tint darker. It steadily darkened in hue as Dorian leaned ever so slowly closer to his face until their lips touched.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Da is an elvhen word meaning “small” but it is also a diminutive prefix so essentially the chapter name is Little or Tiny Nug.


	6. Laetus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...That taste turned into a bite....

**Char: Dorian & Val'Aishlym**

**Summary: Dorian reflects back on his relationship with the inquisitor.**

**Roots: Enter The Mage**

**Laetus**

The little quirks of his were endearing, the Tevinter mage decided. He noticed how when the elf was confused, his expression would blank and he’d just stare.

When he was nervous, unnoticeably, he would rub together his fore-finger and his thumb.

When he was angry, his brows would tick down slightly and there would be a certain dark gleam in his fiery crimson orbs.

When he was upset, his eyes would get a light glaze over them. He would hardly even blink when he got like. Dorian only noticed that the few times the elf had witnessed a nug die, when the halla died, or when there was a slight tear in the plush nug’s ear. He didn’t like the look, but since their first kiss the elf would then just plop either on him or next to him and lay his head against him.

It was quite endearing that the elf would come to him for comfort. These times weren’t frequent, but Dorian liked them.

This happened to be one such time. Dorian had been sitting in the library reading one of the newer books that had been gifted to the inquisition. He had looked up to see the elf staring at him with a frown. When he asked ‘what was the matter’, Val’aishlym had reached down and pulled on his arm. He’d led him to his quarters, where they were now.

Sometimes he’d lay on the bed snuggled with the plush nug waiting for Dorian to join him. Other times he would just push Dorian down on the couch and sit on his lap with his head tucked under Dorian’s chin. The latter is what he was doing now.

This time Dorian had enough sense to keep the book he was reading in his hand as he was dragged off. The elf had already fallen asleep some time ago. Dorian sat with one hand raking through the silver tresses while his other hand held the book up to his face. He wasn’t too sure what upset him this time – more often than not, he would _never know,_

Sometimes the elf would speak about what upset him. Usually it had something to do with Solas or something he encountered in the fields – which was usually a fire mage. He still didn’t understand the aversion to fire magick, but he never questioned him.

…

..

.

“Nnm…” The sight before Dorian would be forever burned in his retinas – something he didn’t mind _at all._ Kissed bruised lips being assaulted by sharp canines – odd how Dorian had never noticed the elf’s sharp teeth; the hue of red his face took on so bright, his face tattoos were barely even visible; eyes screwed tightly; head thrown back ever so slightly showing off his gorgeous slim neck.

He wasn’t entirely too sure how it got to this point. They had been on the balcony talking about how mages called upon the different types of archmagicks. He’d kiss the pale elf and everything after that was a blur up until this point.

He was now deep inside his lover, arms resting on either side of his head. He stared down at the panting elf as his inward strokes became more drawn out. With each powerful forward snap of his hips, the elf would give a low cry.

Val’Aishlym’s head had turned slightly to the side. He had one hand gripping tightly to Dorian’s arm while the other dug blunt nails into Dorian’s shoulder.

Dorian could only imagine what was going through the elf’s mind at this point. He probably would indulge in imagining if he weren't so busy, of course.

Dorian felt the elf start to tense up. His low cries becoming garbled sounds and sometimes phrases in elvhen. “I-I…wa-wait…s-stop….no…more…” The elf had begun to weakly push at his chest, sometimes clawing.

“Shh…amatus….let me make you feel good,” Dorian whispered into the elf’s ear.

“I have to…I can’t…” Dorian felt a sudden violent shudder run through the elf’s body before he felt warmth spread between them. The elf was making high pitched breathy noises as he came. Dorian couldn’t help but grin at that.

The elf continued to shudder violently as the first orgasm he’d ever had ran through him. He continued to push at Dorian’s chest who was still moving inside him. He shook his head and moaned lowly.

“No more…” He cried, shaking his head again. Dorian gave a tiny huff of irritation but pulled out of the over-sensitized elf. Even after coming, tremors and shudders afflicted the elf. Dorian moved his body off the elf but nuzzled his face in his neck. He stroked himself and ran a hand through the trembling elf’s silver tresses.

When he’d finally came, the elf’s tremors had already stopped. In the place of heavy panting was light breathing. He had fallen asleep. Dorian, too exhausted to do anything else, gently pulled the covers from under the elf and settled them both into the bed.

He felt unusually giddy. He didn’t necessarily think it was a bad thing but it couldn’t have possibly been a good thing either. He’d never felt so…content after a rump in the sheets. He glanced down at the elf now pressed against his side.

Dorian let a small grin grace his face before he fell asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not that good with sex scenes it seems. Laetus is the Latin word meaning happy or joyful.


	7. Invidia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...after the devour comes the 2nd...then the addiction...then the little green demon rears its ugly head.

**Char: Dorian & Val'Aishlym**

**Summary: Dorian reflects back on his relationship with the inquisitor.**

**Roots: Enter The Mage**

**Invidia**

Dorian was unsure of himself. He didn’t know when he become this attached to the elf, it just sort of happened. It was, of course, now that he realized how much he cared about the elf that Val’Aishlym became somewhat distant.

Dorian knew he likely was putting too much thought into it. The elf came to him less for comfort and showed less emotion then he had before. He still allowed Dorian to kiss him but that was about it.

It didn’t happen right away. It was a couple of months into their relationship that Dorian had really seen the change. That was also around the time he noticed Val’Aishlym spending more time with Iron Bull. Of course, he could have been spending the same amount of time with Bull as he always did but Dorian was _just_ noticing. That was possible but highly unlikely.

He grinned around Bull more than he did around him. He chuckled around Bull more than he did around him. He _spoke_ more to Bull than he did to him. He knew he shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions but he couldn’t help it.

That was when the ‘what if’s plagued Dorian’s mind. _What if Val’Aishlym didn’t love him anymore? What if he had never loved him? What if he and Bull were secretly exploring a relationship now? What if he and Bull had already been in a relationship and_ he _was the secret relationship being kept from Bull? What if he only played the role of cheering up Val’Aishlym when he and Bull argued?_ They were all possible….plausible….and likely.

Dorian snapped his gaze up when he heard a surprised gasp. They were currently walking through the murky waters of Fallow Mire. He forgot the details of why they were there only because he was wishing they _weren’t_ there. The gasp had come from Val’Aishlym. Dorian narrowed his eyes at the reason for his gasp.

Iron Bull had picked the small elf up and was carrying him across the waters. “Your freaking out in the water is causing even more of them to come up,” Iron Bull grumbled irritably.

“I’m sorry,” Val’Aishlym grumbled. “The idea that one of them can be right below waiting to grab me is…unnerving…”

“You know…I wasn’t even thinking about that until you opened your damn mouth. Thanks a lot,” Bull grunted causing Val’Aishlym to smirk. Dorian’s eyes narrowed even more.

…

..

.

“Are you sure it’s safe to camp here…?” Dorian looked up from lighting the camp fire to see Val’Aishlym looking around warily. Dorian had opened his mouth to reassure the elven archer but Iron Bull beat him to it.

“Meh. They’ll only come out if you want to take a bath….but I doubt you’d want to bathe in that water. ‘Sides, I’ll keep you safe, boss.” Iron Bull had sat down and pulled his large sword in his lap. He looked as if he was getting ready to sharpen his weapon.

“Okay…but please don’t.” Val’Aishlym had placed a hand on the giant man’s hand. “I would rather not make any unnecessary noises just in case….” Iron Bull smirked.

“Here I thought I would get lucky in the Mire.” Iron Bull snickered, causing Dorian’s eyes to narrow farther suspiciously. Val’Aishlym had tugged roughly on Bull’s horn causing the man to cry in surprise. Val’Aishlym snorted before retiring to his tent.

Dorian continued his glaring until Bull looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He looked behind him then looked back at Dorian. “What?”

“Nothing.” Dorian bit out more aggressively than he intended.

“I guess the dead brings the worse out of everyone,” Iron Bull snorted. He stood up and stretched. “Welp, you’re pairing with Blackwall. He snores and never stays on one side of the tent.” With that, Bull entered the tent after Val’Aishlym. Dorian grinded his teeth but didn’t say anything.

“We’re in bed rolls,” Blackwall mutter. “You're the one who snores….” Dorian spared Blackwall a glance before he retired to the other tent.

…

..

.

Dorian made his way down the stairs from the library. He ended in the rotunda under said library. He was on his way to the Inquisitor’s quarters. The elf had been in a strange mood lately. “Dorian.” Dorian turned his gaze to see Solas staring up with his arms crossed.

“Hmm?” Dorian made his way over to the elf. Solas and he had grown sort of close, he’d like to say. He considered the fellow mage and he to be on friendly terms. They didn’t talk much to each other and when they did it was either about magic or something to do with the elf inquisitor. Though most times when Dorian spoke about Val’Aishlym, Solas would get a bit tense and either refused to speak or spoke little.

“He asked the most peculiar question today,” Solas mumbled. Dorian almost asked who he was speaking about. “He asked about the tranquil mages. Is it possible for the fade to reverse the effects of making a mage tranquil...”

“Is it?” Dorian was curious now. Solas looked at him with a furrow in his brow.

“I am not sure…” Why would he ask such a question? May be it had something to do with the few tranquil mages they had come in contact with or the one that actually worked within Skyhold’s walls.

…

..

.

Dorian made his way to the Inquisitor’s quarters, but was stopped at the door by Iron Bull. “Let him rest,” was what he said. Dorian’s eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“He’s a bit worn out at the moment. Come back tomorrow if you need to talk to him.” He said. He didn’t move from his spot. Dorian’s eyes narrowed farther. “I know you hate me but bite your tongue for this one moment and trust me on this. The boss is in _no_ condition to talk with anyone.” The implications of his words sent a burning anger throughout Dorian’s body. He felt his fire archmagick trying to push forth, urging him to take out that burning anger on the person causing it right now.

“Move.” Dorian grit out. Iron Bull shrugged, walking around the smaller man.

“Suite yourself,” he grumbled something afterwards but Dorian didn’t bother to try and hear what he had said. Dorian opened the door and made his way up the few steps to round the railing.

The elf was laying towards the end of the bed. His arms above his head and legs dangling over the side of the bed. One his hands played in his hair while the other just laid limp. His eyes were half lidded but he still stared blankly at the ceiling. The worse part, in Dorian’s mind, was that he was naked….he was unclothed….and Iron Bull had just left telling him not to come in….

“So this is it, is it?” Dorian asked. The elf turned his head slightly to look at Dorian. He said nothing, just stared. “Was that it, then Inquisitor?” The elf sat up with a furrow in his brow. “Are you not going to at least give me an explanation? A why?”

“For what?” The elf asked with a frown.

“The innocent card isn’t going to work anymore, Lavellan.” Dorian sighed. “I guess I’ve been had, hm? Very well then.” Dorian turned.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” Dorian mumbled. “ _We_ can’t do this anymore.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Invidia is Latin for the feeling of envy or jealousy. 
> 
> Somewhat of a weak breakup…in context that is. I forgot to mention there’s pretty much chunks of time skips in each chapter.


	8. The Now & Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...It shouldn't hurt but it does...

**Char: Dorian & Val'Aishlym**

**Summary: Dorian reflects back on his relationship with the inquisitor.**

**Roots: Enter The Mage**

**The Now & Again**

_Now,_

Dorian chuckled humorlessly. He toss the book in his hand to the side and stood up. He walked towards the railing and looked down to the empty rotunda. It was fully painted but lacked the usual bald elf walking around. He looked around at the people still buzzing about as if there was still some great feat they had to accomplish. Corpyheus was dead – the only thing left was reform.

Here he was – Tevinter Mage _still_ around and _sulking_ about his broken heart. Why was he acting like a widow’d wife. He had more pride than that didn’t he? Well he _thought_ he did.

He’d been avoiding the elf as much as possible. Instead of avoiding him, he should have just left…but deep down inside he knew he couldn’t. He hated himself for that to.

“Sparkler.” Dorian turned his head to the side to see Varric walking up to him. “You and Tiny at it again, I heard. About the same thing?” Dorian snorted at the nickname Varric had given the Qunari warrior. He sighed afterwards.

“Indeed,” Dorian grumbled.

“You ever try and _talk_?” Varric asked.

“Please…I don’t need this right now,” Dorian grumbled. Varric raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sure after all this time, all you three need to do is sit down and have a chit-chat. I’ve been around Sunshine long enough to know he’s….he has real reasons to do what he does. ‘Sure if you sit them down and talk it out, you’ll figure something out.” Dorian rolled his eyes at the nickname Varric had given to the Inquisitor. Only that the nickname was the _exact opposite_ of the elf’s personality. There was nothing sunny nor cheery about him.

Now that Dorian thought about…why _did_ he continue to pursue someone so…dark?

“I’m sorry.” Both Varric and Dorian looked up across from them to see Cole sitting on the rail. “Ir abelas ma vhenan. Ir abelas ma falonan. Ma melava halani." Cole looked up, his eyes wider than the mage had ever seen them. “Sadness…anger…suffocating…it hurts…it hurts so much….I ruin everything I touch….nothing ever goes right….I am a mistake…Solas was wrong….I should have died…I will die….if I am gone, everything will be alright again…..it's darker…it's cold in here….but the balcony is closed…I didn’t know death would be so cold….the poison burns but I know….it will end soon…The others can go on without me….I can’t be much help to them like this….Ar tel’enalsalin….I am extra baggage they do not need…. Falon’Din ma ghilana mir din'an….Gone.” Dorian got a sick feeling in the pit of stomach. Just like that, the spirit disappeared. Varric and Dorian exchanged looks.

“He mentioned Solas, didn’t he?” Varric asked, his voice a tad bit hard. “And that was elvhen he was talking, right?” The only elf Solas actually spoke to, to Dorian’s knowledge, was Sera and the inquisitor. Even then, he didn’t seem to like Sera and Sera – he couldn’t remember anytime he had ever heard her utter a single word in elvhen.

“Lavellan,” was all Dorian could breathe. Did he just listen to the elf’s _final thoughts_?

 

> _“Shall one walk the ignorant path? Shall one ignore that which was taught? Shall one blissfully plant and harvest the poison that is doubt – that is deceit? With doubtful seeds planted into fertile soil only produces fruits of doubt. Can this doubt be cultured? Can these doubtful fruits be named?_
> 
> _Shall ignorance be thy bliss? Turn thine eyes unto none but pleasure – block the pain of the world, the real truth of the world from thine eyes. Will this satisfy the ignorant? Will this act as water and nurture the doubtful fruit? Will this be your shield – the ultimate defense – against that which you do not realize – that you refuse to realize?” –Updated Bloom Codex_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending this was difficult.  
>  _Ir abelas = I am sorry._
> 
>  
> 
> _Ma vhenan = my heart_
> 
>  
> 
> _Ma falon = my friend_
> 
>  
> 
> _Ma melava halani = you helped me_
> 
>  
> 
> _Ar tel’enalsalin = I have no victory/ I have failed_
> 
>  
> 
> _Falon’Din ma ghilana mir din'an = Falon'Din (god of death) guide me to death._


End file.
